


you might just go under

by andromeda3116



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:44:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromeda3116/pseuds/andromeda3116
Summary: Walking into the apartment (where, she could not stress this enough, she was supposed to be meeting two or three people for a study group after spending all day on her feet behind the bar) was like walking unfortunately back in time, to the freshman parties at Northeastern -- complete with the now-dated Lady Gaga music playing. Bodhi heaved a sigh when they opened the door.[College AU for the "oh God we've been here forever, when will we graduate so I can get a job that doesn't rely on tips" crowd.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay so like. this idea struck and wouldn't let go. i still intend to update "heart in a headlock" this weekend. just think of this as an interlude. also, an uncomfortable amount of this fic is taken directly from my own experiences. if there is more in this 'verse, it'll be as a series of one-shots rather than a full-length fic.

It had started off so innocently.

“Hey,” one of her classmates said, catching her on their way out, their latest test in his hand. Glancing at it, she could see that he didn’t do all that great, but then, if the professor’s snide _well_ some _of you understood the last unit_ comment was anything to go by, neither did the rest of them. For Jyn, it was probably the worst grade she had ever received on an exam she’d actually sat for, but in her defense, fifty minutes was nowhere near enough time to answer all of the questions in the kind of depth that Malbus required.

(A grad student, hiding her test with a look of horror on her face, had promised to speak to the professor about fewer -- or less in-depth -- questions on the next exam.)

“How’d you do on this test?” the classmate asked, and she just sort of laughed a little, with some hysteria. Her father, a high-ranking government scientist, could _not_ hear about that thirty-four out of seventy-eight. “Yeah, me too,” he went on. “So I was thinking of putting together a study group? My roommate took this class last semester, with Imwe, and he says it was a lot easier.”

“So what I’m hearing is,” she said, “I should drop Malbus and retake it next semester with Imwe?"

“The drop date was last week. I checked.”

Shit.

“Maybe I can fake a deathly illness,” she mused. “I could probably forge a hospital admissions form and pretend I’ve been laid up with super-pneumonia or something.”

The classmate blinked. “Yeah, if I did that, I would come back and immediately _get_ super-pneumonia and die from it.”

She hesitated, thought about that for a moment. “You’re right,” she admitted finally. “It would be tempting fate. I’m Jyn, by the way,” she added, holding out a hand to shake, and he rearranged his books in his arms to take it.

“Bodhi,” he replied.

“Are we talking about a study group?” someone else said from behind them, another guy in the class -- Luke, she thought might be his name, transfer student from some religious community college -- with wide, blue eyes and a look of slightly-hunted desperation. “My paper is bleeding. I need help. Bad.”

“Join the club,” Bodhi replied.

“Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics didn’t _sound_ like it would be hard,” Luke groaned. Jyn gaped at him.

“In what universe? I’ve been putting this class off for three years running.”

“We can get together at my apartment,” Bodhi said. “Saturday?”

Jyn shook her head. “I work a double on Saturday, I won’t be off till after eleven.”

The problem was, Jyn didn't have much time for a study group, particularly before the next exam, a week from now. Whatever dark forces had been moving in her soul when she'd decided to return to college, she may never know.

“We could make it a really late study group?” Luke offered hopefully.

“I can do that,” Bodhi said, and Jyn sighed.

“Fine, but I’m coming in my work clothes."

(Honestly, when you came right down to it, did you really _need_ sleep when you owned an espresso maker?)

.

“You have a study group after work tonight?” one of the regulars asked, as she mixed his usual, a Manhattan neat. “Is this a study group, or -- “ he gave her an exaggerated wink “ -- a _study group?_ ”

“It’s a study group, Mr. Calrissian,” she answered, with a semi-genuine laugh. Lando was a great tipper, and although he flirted plenty, he had never made her uncomfortable or actually acted on his comments, so what the hell, she could play along. “I think all but one person failed the last test.”

“What class is it?”

“Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics,” she replied, and he leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, how could you _not_ ace that class, it sounds like a breeze,” he said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes and dropped a brandied cherry in his glass, handing it over. “How much longer have you got before you graduate?"

“Depends,” she answered ambiguously. “I’m only part-time, so I pretty much assume that I’ll get my degree just before the heat death of the universe.”

Jyn hadn’t exactly had the smoothest run of it at university -- her first attempt had been a disaster entirely of her own making, when she’d moved six hours away from home to a fancy private school, majored in English pretty much exclusively to give her dad an aneurysm, and promptly become a party girl. She’d gotten arrested and then flunked out, and come home with her tail between her legs after three semesters.

Now she was at university part-time (majoring in physics this time), bartending part-time, and working at the library part-time. Working at the library meant the school let her take six hours per semester tuition-free, and in spite of the fact that she hated everything about it up to and including the color of the walls, she still had student loans from her first three semesters to pay back, and a deep aversion to incurring any more. The downside was, the six hours per semester wasn’t enough to put the loans back into deferment, hence, the bartending.

She was averaging about fourteen hours of sleep a week and would probably graduate with people who were currently being born, but at least she wasn’t living at home with her parents.

It was the little things.

(They had picked her up when she’d gotten kicked out of her last school, and the stone-silent six-hour drive had been the most agonizing experience of her life, including her stint in jail and pleading guilty to the DUI that she’d have on her record for another couple of years still.)

(She was, slowly but surely, regaining their trust and pride. Failing another class was out of the question.)

“I don’t know why you bother,” Lando said airily. “You could just marry rich.”

Jyn laughed, much less sincerely. “Trust me, Mr. Calrissian,” she replied, turning away to take a rack of wine glasses from a server, “nobody in their right mind would marry me, rich or otherwise.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She laughed it off, biting back the urge to roll her eyes.

.

Bodhi met her at the entrance to the apartment complex, with a “just park anywhere, it’ll be fine” and hands stuffed in his pockets.

“So,” he said, drawing the word out in a way that made her nervous. “Apparently Luke invited his roommate, some guy named Han?”

She groaned. “Why?”

“You know him?"

“He’s a stoner,” she replied. “I can’t tell if he cheats or if he’s just some secret genius, but he never shows up to class.”

“Yeah, I think Luke is trying to save his soul or something, because he’s in my apartment right now. Along with about twenty of his friends.”

She stopped in her tracks. “I signed on for a study group,” she said darkly. “Not a party.”

“I tried to say that, but apparently he’s friends with Malbus’s TA, and if I can corner him then we will solve _so many_ of our problems.”

“Malbus’s TA?” she repeated. “Poe?”

“That’s the one,” he replied, walking up the stairs.

“Why did he invite so many people? Why not just him?”

Bodhi sighed. “He says it’s revenge against Cassian, for beating him in some class last year and winning something he wanted.”

“Cassian?”

“My roommate.”

“Right,” she muttered, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets and pulling it tighter against her, and then, in as dark a tone as she could muster: “The more the merrier.”

Walking into the apartment (where, she could not stress this enough, she was supposed to be meeting two or three people for a study group after being on her feet all day behind the bar) was like walking unfortunately back in time, to the English department parties at Northeastern -- complete with the now-dated Lady Gaga music playing. Bodhi heaved a sigh when they walked through the door.

“I tried to wrestle the playlist away from Kay,” he said. “But he’s stronger than he looks.”

She glanced over to the laptop, to where a tall guy was sitting, snickering as he played around on it, no doubt finding the most offensively catchy songs he could think of to add to the playlist. “Let me guess, he agreed to help with the revenge.”

“I think so,” Bodhi replied, picking up a red solo cup with his name on it from the end table just inside the door. “It’s the only explanation for “Poker Face”.”

“All right,” she muttered, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder. “Let’s just grab Luke and Poe and go somewhere quieter.”

“What?” a new voice said, and she turned around to see Han himself, arms open, with a shit-eating (probably drunk) grin on his face. “Bailing on the party, Erso?”

“Yep,” she replied shortly. “I’ve been on my feet serving drunk people all day, I’m not interested in partying with more of them.”

“Nah, come on,” Han insisted, waving toward the kitchen table, where two boxes of Franzia, both red, were sitting. “Have a drink and unwind, you’ll feel better.”

Jyn, who recalled with discomforting clarity what happened the last time she and Han got drunk together, was pretty sure that was going to be the worst idea ever, and tried to convey as much with a glare. “I don’t need to unwind, I need to learn thermodynamics.”

“Yeah, well, Cassie doesn’t get off work for another half-hour,” Han said, and Bodhi choked on his drink. “I’m sure he’ll teach you everything you wanna know, but what are you gonna do until then? Come on, live a little.”

That was… suspicious, but she honestly couldn’t come up with a great retort, especially because the night had gone pretty sharply downhill around eight, when a group of loud, middle-aged, wealthy women had come in -- “Date night without the husbands!” one of them had trilled, probably already drunk. “Wine us up!” -- and proceeded to run her absolutely ragged, before gushing about brunch in the morning and under-tipping.

Besides, she was going to have “Poker Face” stuck in her head for the rest of the night anyway, so she might as well enjoy it.

.

Cassian heard the music playing before he even got to the door.

( _Bah-bum-be-dum, bah-bum-be-dum-bum_ \-- what the fuck, was it 2008?)

He seriously considered turning around and walking right back down the steps to sleep in his car. Bodhi had told him that he planned to have a couple of people over for a study group, and since Bodhi was usually a quiet and respectful roommate, Cassian had seen little reason to think he was lying.

He’d been on his feet for the past nine solid hours, working the busiest fucking bar in town with two other assholes, and he was in exactly no mood whatsoever for this.

But it was also absolutely goddamn freezing out here, and that was the sole reason he walked in the door.

It looked exactly like it sounded, like the very worst freshman frat parties he’d unfortunately puked through back when “Disturbia” was a new song (which had led almost-directly to his needing to take a year off and start over), and he scanned the crowd for the culprit.

“Bodhi, what the fuck?” he hissed, and Bodhi turned around, holding his hands up in supplication.

“Blame Han.”

“Han?” he said. “Solo? What the fuck is Han Solo doing in my apartment?”

“Being a great friend,” Han cut in suddenly, throwing an arm around Cassian’s shoulder. He stiffened.

“I thought it was about revenge,” Bodhi said, but Han waved him off.

“I mean, yes, because that award was mine,” he replied, but then pulled Cassian in closer, conspiratorially. “But, remember how I told you I’d introduce you to that chick you’ve had a crush on all year?”

Fuck. Fuck, no. Fuck. Not tonight.

He’d spent all night getting his ass kicked by obnoxious frat boys and their demanding parents, he was exhausted and haggard and all he really wanted was to drink whiskey alone and pass right the hell out. Now was _not_ the time to introduce himself to that girl.

“Look, it’s like this,” Han went on, shaking him a little. “She’s in Bodhi’s class, the one you made an A in last semester, and she needs help studying.”

“So what you’re saying is,” he grumbled, as Bodhi looked back and forth between him and Han, and Cassian wanted little more than to kick Han for, well, everything, “she would have been here anyway."

“And how awkward would _that_ have been?” Han replied, which… okay, was probably a good point, considering how many times he’d had the opportunity to talk to her and passed it up because everything about her exuded _don’t fuck with me._  “But now we’re all here, and everyone’s pleasantly buzzed, and you can bond over the terrible music we’re listening to.”

“Whose fault is that, by the way?”

“Kay,” Bodhi answered, gesturing to where the third roommate had set himself up with the laptop. “Good luck getting him to change it. I tried and then he added all of Metro Station’s discography to the playlist, so let’s not make it worse.”

“Metro Station?”

“Don’t ask,” Han said fervently.

“ _We’re one mistake from being together_ ,” Bodhi sang, badly, and Cassian recoiled.

“Oh, god, not them.”

“Just wait for it,” another voice said, joining them, and Cassian froze. The girl -- who he’d known as “cute library girl” but according to Han was named Jyn -- was standing there, holding a half-full red solo cup. She was dressed in server’s colors, a black button-down and black dress pants with black shoes and a black tie, and looked about as ragged as Cassian felt. “3OH!3 is up next.”

“Which song is that?” Bodhi asked, but then it started, and the entire room winced and cried out as one. Kay cackled.

“Yeah,” Jyn said, nodding and taking a deep breath with closed eyes, and then finishing her drink in one draught. “Don’t trust a ho, indeed.”

Cassian sighed; he had a lot of hazy memories from freshman year that involved this song and truly awful beer, that Kay knew good and goddamn well about. It was definitely an intentional _welcome home_ for him. “I need alcohol.”

“You and me both,” Jyn muttered, walking away toward the kitchen. Han shoved him after her, and when he shot a glare back at him, he received a grin and a thumbs-up. Jackass. “So, you’re Cassian, I take it?” she asked, once they got into the kitchen, where it was a little quieter. She cast a critical eye over the table, but he ignored it entirely and made for the tallest cabinet, where he had his own whiskey stash, and she followed him.

“I am,” he answered, pulling out the bottle -- it was just Maker’s, nothing special, but she looked a lot more interested in that than the shitty box wine someone (Han, probably, since he was just going to assume that everything terrible about today was Han Solo’s fault) had brought. “I live here.”

“I gathered,” she said, and he hid his wince behind the freezer door as he filled a cup with ice. “I’m Jyn. You’re a physics major? I think I’ve seen you around Johnson Science.”

“Engineering, I’ve been a senior for two years now,” he replied, holding out the ice tray for her to take some, which she did, then raised her cup in a bit of a toast.

“Super-seniors unite. I can only take six hours a semester, so I figure I’ll graduate right around the time the sun explodes.”

He laughed and poured himself a very generous amount of whiskey, before handing the bottle over to her and opening up a can of coke to add to it. “Why is that?” he asked, and she sighed, pouring herself a shorter glass and finishing off the can.

“I work at the library part-time, so the school lets me take six hours tuition-free. I, uh,” she went on, a little uncomfortably, “I have a lot of loans already.”

“Mm,” he said, taking a sip. “I’ve just accepted that the sweet release of death is the only way I’ll be free of mine.”

She snorted. “I think my dad is still disappointed that I have loans at all, I could have gone to some local college with a full scholarship, but I was a fucking _idiot_ when I was eighteen.”

He raised his glass to toast. “I joined a frat,” he admitted, and she gave him the same look that Bodhi had when he heard that, the _you do not strike me as a frat boy_ look. It was, he figured, better than a look of dawning comprehension. “Completely wiped out in two semesters. Never again.”

“Ouch,” she replied. “I lasted three, but I took a car down with me when I went.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“BAC of .25,” she answered, and he cringed. She nodded slowly, giving the living room a dirty look as "SexyBack" started playing. “Learned my lesson, though.”

He glanced at her drink, which was disappearing _much_ slower than his own, but in his defense, he was in his own home and had had the world’s shittiest night and was now trying to be cool and interesting in front of the girl he’d wanted to meet for about a year now. “What else do you do?” he asked, and when she raised an eyebrow, he gestured to her outfit. “Server?”

“Bartender, mostly.”

“Same here,” he replied, leaning back against the counter in what was supposed to be a casual gesture, but definitely leaned back into where someone had spilled wine. She couldn’t see it, so he pretended that it didn’t happen. It was sort of a microcosm of his entire life, in one single moment. “Was it just me, or was tonight Asshole Saturday?”

She rolled her eyes. “I had Cougar Night, myself. And tomorrow will probably be Cougar Brunch.”

“Ugh, brunch,” he said, and they shuddered at the same time, the universal server/bartender reaction to the word. She laughed.

“Bottomless mimosas,” she trilled, with that special look of desperation that he knew all too well. “I spent three hours this afternoon squeezing oranges.”

“I paid somebody to take my brunch shift after the night I had,” he admitted, and she made a face.

“I might still,” she grumbled, taking another sip and then glancing behind her as a new song came on. “Is this Taylor Swift?” she asked, sounding horrified. He paused, listening, and then sighed into his drink.

“ _Old_ Taylor Swift,” he confirmed.

“Okay, that’s the last straw,” she said, stalking in the direction of Kay’s laptop. He took the opportunity to clean up the wine he’d been leaning against -- it was ghastly pink, some lost soul had had the gall to bring fucking white zinfandel into his house -- and checked to make sure his shirt wasn’t too wet. It was black, so it wasn’t like anybody would see it. He walked out into the living room, where Jyn was standing, arms crossed, glaring at Kay. She’d been joined by a completely unfamiliar girl with a long braid.

Cassian, who had a great deal more experience in dealing with Kay than anybody else in attendance, sighed.

“Look, at least the other stuff was dance music,” the other girl was saying. “Nobody wants to dance to schmaltzy love songs.”

“I beg to differ,” Kay replied, looking amused, and gesturing to the “dance floor” (he wondered vaguely where the hell his coffee table had gone), where it appeared that Bodhi and some random blond kid were getting close. As well as far beyond drunk. The blond kid was definitely going to be sleeping on the couch.

“Okay, nobody _remotely sober_ wants to dance to schmaltzy love songs,” the girl said, without missing a beat.

“What, you’re not feeling the ‘high school prom’ vibe?” Jyn said airily. “Weird, I was just thinking that what this party _really_ needs is some shitty plastic stars.”

“As much fun as that sounds,” the girl drawled, “I’ve been working on a fifteen-page paper for American Political Theory for the past twenty-nine hours straight, and I’m drawing the line.”

“That sounds like a personal problem to me,” Kay said, and Cassian stepped in.

“Kay, seriously,” he deadpanned, but Kay still looked unfazed.

“I was against this party happening in the first place,” he replied. “This is my way of registering my displeasure.”

“Look, I came here for a study group,” Jyn snapped. “Take it out on Han, not the rest of us.”

“I _knew_ Han didn’t get permission,” the other girl muttered darkly. “I just knew it.”

“It’s Taylor Swift or early 2000s pop-punk,” Kay offered, but before he could say anything against it, Jyn nodded.

“Fine, I’d much rather listen to shitty emo than this. At least it won’t put me to sleep.”

Looking directly at her, making perfect eye contact, Kay pressed play, and the opening to "Bring Me to Life" started. She blinked.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need another drink,” she said, and Cassian nodded.

“Coming right up,” he replied.

.

To be honest, it had been a long time since she’d felt this relaxed on a Saturday night -- it had definitely improved when the cute roommate had gotten there and brought out the stash of decent liquor (and it wasn’t lost on her that she was the only person he’d shared it with, outright lying to Han’s face about the contents of his drink), and now she was sitting on one of the couches between him and the Poli-Sci major with the braid, all three of them denying loudly that they actually kind of liked the song currently playing.

Her name was Leia, she was Luke’s twin sister, and she super-definitely-absolutely-positively did not have a crush on Han Solo. In fact, she hated him, which she had decided to explain to Jyn and Cassian multiple times. Loudly.

When she stood up to refill her drink, Jyn glanced at Cassian. “Ten bucks says they hook up tonight.”

He shook his head. “Too easy.”

“Where did Bodhi end up?” she asked; Luke was curled up on a loveseat with a blanket half-thrown over him. She was actually kind of surprised that he’d drank anything at all, since he struck her as the straightlaced type, but he definitely had the alcohol tolerance of a kitten, poor kid. He’d be in a great state when he woke up in the morning. Afternoon.

“There’s no telling,” Cassian replied, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes. “He’s not really the type to hook up at a party, but I’ve never seen him that drunk, so who knows?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, remembering. “I still need to talk to Dameron about that stupid class.”

“I think he’s gone already,” he said, and she sighed. She’d gotten too into it, too caught up with the friendly people and hot roommate and hilariously-bad music to focus on why she’d come here in the first place. It was a big part of why she didn't really go out anymore. But then: “You can have my notes.”

“Seriously?” she asked, and he waved a hand dismissively. “You’re my new favorite person.”

He opened his eyes again and looked at her, smiling. _He has a really nice smile,_ her drunken mind whispered.

She was just about to say _screw it_ \-- because this was technically a college party, right, and wasn’t hooking up with semi-strangers what you did at college parties? -- but then Leia returned with a cup of pink liquid.

“Is that white zin?” Jyn asked, horrified, and Leia made a face as she took a sip.

“It was that or Evan Williams,” she replied. “I had to make a bad call either way.”

“The answer is never, ever white zin,” Cassian said.

“White zin is for sixteen-year-olds and repressed soccer moms,” Jyn added, and Cassian laughed. Leia rolled her eyes.

“How the hell am I supposed to get my brother out of here?” she asked, to the room in general. They both glanced over to where Luke was completely wiped out.

“You don’t,” Cassian answered. “I’ll give him a ride in the morning.”

“Shit,” Jyn hissed, and he looked around to her, a bit alarmed. “I still have that stupid brunch shift at ten.”

“Call in sick,” Cassian offered, but… as much as she’d been joking about it, she needed the cash too badly. Rent was about to be due, and she was still short. It didn’t matter how god-awfully hungover she was, she had to show up.

“I can’t,” she groaned, running her hand over her face. It was already after three o’clock in the morning. “Rent is due in three days.”

Cassian gave her a sympathetic look. “Go ahead and crash here,” he said, and she looked at him. She hadn’t even considered the prospect, because come on, she met most of these people less than six hours ago, but she wasn’t going to be sober enough to drive for a _while,_  and she did not get behind the wheel if she felt at all buzzed anymore.

“You’re sure?” she asked anyway. He was being very… nice. Worryingly nice. “You’re letting multiple strangers sleep in your apartment.”

“Well, if you kill me, I don’t have to finish that paper for Gerrara’s class, so I really have nothing to lose,” he replied flippantly. She laughed. Dark sense of humor, too. She liked him a lot more than she ought to.

“Thank you,” she said, with feeling, but it honestly didn’t seem like it was that big a deal to him.

“How many couches do you have?” Leia asked, and Cassian looked around.

“Three,” he answered. Each one of the roommates had brought their own furniture, apparently. She had the leather one Luke was on pegged as Kay’s, and the grandma couch in the other room definitely looked like the kind of thing that a desperate Bodhi would pick up in a thrift store and try to cover with a sheet, which left the one they were on, a generic blue sofa that was nevertheless comfortable, as probably-Cassian’s.

“I can give you a ride home if you need one,” Han said, joining them at the couch with two cups of water. “I did all my drinking at the start.”

Leia hesitated, but took the water and downed it quickly.

“All right, fine,” she replied finally, with a sort of regal tone like she was doing Han a favor. He rolled his eyes but helped her stand. “Thank you for hosting everyone on such short notice, Cassian.”

He waved it off. The party was definitely winding down; once Leia and Han left, it was pretty much just her, the semi-conscious Luke, Kay, and Cassian.

“Three-thirty AM, Cassian,” Kay said darkly, and Cassian shrugged.

“You had fun, and you know it.”

Kay made an irritated noise, closed his laptop with a snap, and walked out of the living room, which was as good as admitting that he had actually had a good time being the world’s worst DJ.

And then there were two.

It occurred to her that they were essentially alone in the quiet room, and she really hadn’t spoken to anybody else the whole night. Hadn’t even noticed, either. She’d just been wrapped up in how enjoyable it was to talk to him.

Every alarm screaming _danger_ went off in her head at once. Cassian seemed like a decent guy, attractive and, by all appearances, interested in her, but she did _not_ have a good history with men. If he seemed perfect, it was either because he was trying to fool her or he was genuinely just way too good for her.

On the other hand, she was just this side of _too_ drunk, it was so late that it was technically early, and she hadn’t had an evening off in months. She could hear Han telling her to live a little -- which was rich, coming from someone who most certainly lived entirely too much -- and here she was, alone on the couch with a hot guy she didn’t have to see again if she didn’t want to.

So she ignored the alarm bells and kissed him.

He seemed surprised at first, but got over it quickly, one of his hands sliding up the back of her neck to pull her hair out of its tie and the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer, until she was practically on top of him. He kissed her with desperation, like he’d been dying to do it all night.

But then he pulled away, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

“What?” she asked, genuinely confused, since everything seemed to be going in a really good direction.

“You’re drunk,” he said through gritted teeth, and leaned his head back on the couch cushion. “ _Really_ drunk.”

“I am not that drunk,” she lied, but he shook his head, pushing her away from him, off of him, and standing stiffly. She had that awful cold sense of certainty, that she might forget everything else about tonight, but _this_ she would remember in exquisite, excruciating detail.

“You’re drunk enough,” he breathed. “This -- I -- “ he started and stopped a couple of times, ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.  

“Oh,” she said, glancing away. “Right.”

She couldn’t _leave_ , was the worst part. This was usually the part where -- embarrassed, mortified, and wanting the ground to swallow her whole -- she would just make her exit with what remained of her dignity, but she was still drunk and too far away from her apartment to walk.

“It isn’t -- “ he started, but she shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she snapped. “You don’t have to explain yourself, this is embarrassing enough. Just go.”

“Jyn -- “

“ _Please_.”

He took a deep breath, started to say something, but stopped at the look on her face -- although what he was actually seeing there, she wasn’t sure -- and walked out of the room, down the hallway to where his room presumably was.

She swallowed hard, and let out a long, slow breath.

 _Whatever_ , she thought to herself, as she slumped back into the couch and buried her face in a cushion that still smelled like Leia’s perfume, _I didn’t like him that much anyway._

.

He woke up right at nine-thirty, to the sound of the apartment door shutting. The hangover wasn’t quite potent enough to blank out the memory of what had happened.

Fuck. She probably thought he hated her. She’d _definitely_ thought he was rejecting her, which couldn’t be further from the -- shit, _you don’t have to explain yourself,_  she really thought --

It had felt almost surreal, the whole night, because somewhere in the back of his head he’d never expected to meet her -- but then there she’d been, and… nothing like he’d expected. He hadn’t been prepared to have so much in common with her, and he definitely hadn’t been prepared for the dry wit or the way she smiled.

Han had said, when he'd stupidly mentioned _oh the cute library girl is working today_ , that he thought Cassian would like her a lot. It was a little concerning, that Han had been right.

Maybe, in the sober light of morning, she'd recognize why he'd pushed her away.

(It had been a really, really long time since he'd connected with someone like that.)

He was just about to try and heave himself out of bed against every roiling sensation in his head and stomach -- coffee would help, and something with salt -- when someone knocked on the door.

“Cassian,” Bodhi’s voice said, sounding near-death. “Cassian, where is the aspirin?”

He opened the door and nearly knocked his roommate over; he was sitting on the floor, in the same clothes he'd worn last night, shoes and all, and he hadn't turned on any lights.

“Are you okay?” he asked seriously.

“I haven't thrown up,” he replied, as though it was some kind of accomplishment, rather than probably making him feel worse. “You're not too far gone until you throw up.”

“That’s… not true.”

Bodhi waved it off, and didn't lift his head from his knees. “Please,” he whimpered. “I just want aspirin.”

He got the aspirin and water for Bodhi, who took it like it was manna from heaven, and then got more aspirin and water for the groggy ball of misery and regret on Kay’s couch.

“Here, it'll help,” he said, but Luke ignored him entirely, staring into space with the thousand-yard stare of the profoundly hungover, which Cassian unfortunately knew too well. He winced, though, showing some sign of life, when someone knocked on the outside door.

He couldn't help it; for just a second, he hoped that it was Jyn.

It wasn't.

“Hey, Leia asked me last night to check in on Luke,” Han said, glancing past him and stifling a laugh. “Well, he’s alive.”

“He is that.”

“You guys need coffee and bacon,” Han insisted, and Luke gagged, but didn't actually throw up. “I know it sounds awful right now, but it _will_ help.”

He was just about to refuse -- because just thinking about dressing himself and going into the sunlight right now was painful -- when Han went on, “We can go bug Jyn at brunch,” with a knowing glance and smirk.

Shit.

“I'll get dressed.”

.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Jyn snapped, crossing her arms. “I took Cougar Town last night, they ran up a 400 dollar tab and tipped me twenty, I’ve _earned_ this mythical table of hot guys.”

The manager, Shara, sighed. “Look, I don’t care who takes care of what table, just get out there and do it.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Rey offered, with hope on her face, but Jyn shook her head.

“No.”

“Ugh, they’re gonna run us out of orange juice.”

“I squeezed five liters of it last night,” she grumbled, pulling the water pitcher away from the drink machine and stalking for the dining room. “If they run us out of orange juice, I’m running _them_ out of town.”

God, she felt like absolute walking hell. At least she wasn’t alone -- literally every staff member, from the busboy to the owner, was currently nursing a hangover (which was, in her experience, the only appropriate way to approach a brunch shift). She took a deep breath.

“Hi,” she started, once she’d gotten to the table, “I’m Jyn, and I’ll -- oh.”

Rey’s Table of Hot Guys turned out to be Bodhi, Luke, Han… and Cassian.

“Coffee,” Bodhi said, giving her a look of pure misery. “All the coffee.”

“Make mine Irish,” Han said, and everyone else -- Jyn included -- cringed.

“One alcoholic sunrise and three regular coffees, got it,” she replied tightly. “Any cream or sugar?”

“Yes,” Luke answered weakly, and Cassian caught him by the arm.

“This your first hangover?” he asked, and Luke, looking haggard beyond all reason, nodded. “No cream. Drink it black.”

“And how do _you_ feel?” Han asked her, and she groaned.

“Better since I’m not taking that table,” she replied with forced brightness, gesturing to where Rey was trying to deal with the obnoxious brunching soccer moms. Usually Rey was great with customers, even the assholes, but either she was too hungover or they were too awful, and Jyn could see her clutching her pen tightly enough to just about snap it in half. “I had them last night.”

“Oh, so it is Cougar Brunch?” Cassian said, and she nodded, trying to act natural.

“They _did_ warn me they’d be back for bottomless mimosas.”

“Warn?”

“Well, they were giggling when they said it,” she amended, shrugging more flippantly than she felt. “But I took it as a threat anyway. I’ll be back with those coffees in a second.”

Rey appeared in the kitchen while she was making the Irish coffee, and stood still for a moment, eyes closed. “I hate them so much,” she said in a small voice.

“Look on the bright side,” Jyn said, raising an eyebrow. “They won’t tip for shit anyway, so you don’t have to bother with good service.”

“That goes against everything I _am_ ,” Rey muttered, and Jyn shrugged.

She’d learn. Rey was young, yet.

She tried to remember, as she picked up the tray, if she’d done anything with Cassian last night. It got kind of hazy around two and downright blurry by three, but she _did_ have an uncomfortably clear memory of him pushing her off of him. He didn’t seem to be offended or upset today, though.

Had they actually kissed, or did he just reject her outright? She honestly couldn’t recall.

“I’m gonna need five mimosa pitchers,” Rey said, catching Jyn right before she got to the door. “And fourteen glasses.”

“Fuck me,” she muttered. “I’ll get it in a second.” She got to the table of the guys and passed out the coffees, before apologizing. “If you can give me a minute, I have to go make five pitchers of mimosas and a bunch of bloody marys.”

“Godspeed,” Cassian said, and she tried not to laugh, tried not to like him. Rey was standing at the bar with a tray, watching.

“He’s _cute,_ ” she said, when Jyn got to her, drawing out the word and looking cheerful. The girl wasn’t nicknamed “Rey of Sunshine” for nothing. “You know him?”

“I have a class with a couple of them, but I met him last night,” she replied, with as little emotion as possible, and laid out the bevy of orders. The one good thing about brunch -- the one good thing -- was that they pre-mixed the bloody marys the night before, so all she had to do was pour the vodka and top them off.

“I think he likes you.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, pulling out a full case of champagne to distract herself. A pitcher was a little more than a bottle, so five pitchers meant probably seven or eight bottles. Fuck. She didn’t consider that they might run out of cheap champagne. “Let Shara know we may not have enough Andre.”

“There’s a whole two more cases in the back,” Rey replied, and Jyn glanced at her.

“Yeah, I know.”

Rey paused, then sighed and started to walk into the kitchen. “I hate brunch.”

“I knew we’d break you eventually,” she said warmly.

.

Brunch, in the way that brunch shifts always seemed to, went from zero to sixty in five minutes, and Cassian had to admit that he was kind of impressed at how Jyn handled it -- although if she was anything like him, she probably wanted to kill the next person who ordered a mimosa “with extra champagne” or asked the age-old, “I know it says on the menu that the eggs are poached, but could I have them fried over-easy, thanks!” as though they were the only people whose orders the cooks were taking.

She wasn’t meeting his eyes. He really wondered how much of the night she remembered.

(He certainly couldn’t forget a single second, although there were a couple he’d like to.)

On the plus side, coffee and breakfast had managed to revive everyone.

“We should go,” Han said seriously, glancing at the line at the door. “We’re holding up a table.”

“I think that’s more like, the reason we should stay,” Bodhi mused, and shot Jyn a thumbs-up that she looked grateful for, before turning her attention to a couple just sitting down at her already-crowded bar. “I think people are actually gonna start dying soon, and I’m not sure if it’ll be staff or customers.”

“Do you do this every Sunday?” Luke asked, his voice still hoarse but at least stronger now, and Cassian glanced at him over his coffee cup.

“Every Sunday I can’t bribe or blackmail someone into doing it for me, yeah.”

“I’m gonna see what she wants us to do,” Han decided, and marched up to the bar, narrowly avoiding the young server who seemed to still be dealing with the brunching (now loudly drunk) soccer moms.

When Han spoke to Jyn, she glanced at their table, then the door, then around the restaurant, and he knew -- intimately, on a deep and personal level -- what was going through her head at that moment:

_Do I choose less work or more money?_

She said something to Han, and he nodded, coming back to the table.

“Verdict?” Luke asked, and Han winced a bit.

“She said if we leave and force her to take another table right now she’ll track us down and kill us in our sleep.”

Yeah, that sounded about right for 12:15 on a Sunday.

“So I guess we’ll hang out for a while, then,” Bodhi said, shrugging and leaning back in his seat.

“I think that server is about to cry,” Luke stage-whispered, and he glanced over -- it was the one Han had nearly tripped over, she was standing at the bar getting glasses and saying something that made Jyn smile sympathetically -- and shook his head.

“Tears of rage, maybe.”

“You think so?”

“Trust me.”

The next time Jyn got to their table with a pot to refill coffee, Luke leaned over and asked her, “Is that other server okay?”

Jyn looked at him, then glanced around to where the girl was standing at the bar again with her head in both of her hands.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, waving a hand. “Little Rey of Sunshine is just trying not to become Murder Rey, she needs a minute and probably a shot.”

“Drinking on the job?” Cassian said, with mock (hypocritical) disapproval; she gave him a knowing look, finally looking him in the face. “For shame.”

“That’s a baseless accusation,” she countered airily. “No one in the service industry would ever do such a thing.”

Even Luke snorted at that one, and Jyn smiled.

( _She should do that more,_  he thought.)

“Thanks for being patient, guys,” she said seriously, and he could see it forming on Han’s face, could see the smartass comment, he braced himself, it was coming --

“Yeah, well…” he started, smirking at Cassian, but apparently Jyn could also see the smartass comment coming, because she cut him off.

“Whatever you say next is gonna be quoted at your funeral.”

Han shut his mouth and put on an offended air. “As if I’d ever say something inappropriate,” he muttered.

.

Jyn cursed herself internally as she walked away from the table -- _don’t engage,_  she thought, _the trick to getting over stupid crushes is to ignore them until they go away_ \-- and straight into a sheaf of orders at the bar.

Ugh. They never stopped coming.

Without raising her head, Rey said, “ _I_ should have had the table of hot guys. It was _my_ turn.”

“You’d force me to serve the Real Housewives two days in a row, Rey? Why do you hate me?”

“They won’t even tip,” Rey went on plaintively. “They’ve monopolized my whole section for the whole shift and they won’t tip. Why won’t they tip? What is _wrong_ with them?”

“If we had the answer to that question,” Jyn replied, pulling out the last two bottles of champagne with a sense of dread rarely experienced outside of Death Row, “we would know a lot more about human psychology than we do now.”

“Ugh,” Rey groaned, finally lifting her head and rolling her eyes. “If I kill them, will you post bail?”

Jyn laughed. “It’s _adorable_ that you think I have that much money,” she answered, placing a new pitcher on the tray in front of Rey. “But I will visit you.”

Rey seemed to think about it for a moment. “Yeah, I can work with that.”

True to form, the brunch rush died off before one, allowing her to get away with only opening one bottle of nicer champagne; the Real Housewives had the air of a table that would linger until close, but they’d paid out and so Rey had said, on no uncertain terms, that she would not be going near them _ever_ again.

“Sorry about how crazy it got,” she said, passing check presenters out to the guys. “You get it.”

She’d been back at the bar for about two minutes when she turned around to see Cassian standing on the other side, and her throat went dry.

“Something wrong?” she asked, proud of how completely collected she sounded.

“You didn’t charge us for any of our drinks,” he replied, and she rolled her eyes, placing a finger to her lips.

“Shh.”

(Goddammit, she was really awful at this whole “don’t engage, don’t flirt” thing. He was just… unfairly attractive. And whatever had happened last night, he was still acting just like he had throughout the whole party.)

He glanced back to the table for a second, and a voice whispered in her ear, “Jump him,” and she jolted, glaring.

“Get out from behind my bar, Rey!”

Rey laughed -- now officially clocked out, she had changed into a different shirt, and was clearly “sneaking” herself a mimosa. Jyn made a show of ringing it up.

“Seriously,” Cassian said, stepping aside to let Rey pass, and she took a seat toward the end of the bar beside one of the other servers, Finn. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for us."

She shrugged. “They won’t notice, trust me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she insisted.

“Look,” he started, fidgeting and glancing away, “about… last night…”

Jyn cringed internally, but tried not to let it show. How to approach this? Should she go with the _what is there to talk about?_ Or the _I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again_? Or the _please don’t judge me by how I act when I’m drunk_? Or perhaps the more-honest _I don’t actually remember what happened last night so if you’d like to (and I would like to) we could just pretend it didn’t at all_?

She looked up, met his eyes -- he looked nervous and hopeful and really _really_ uncomfortable -- and decided on honesty.

“Look, I don’t remember a whole lot after MCR started playing -- fortunately -- so…”

His expression was neutral now, hard to read, but a bit wry. “I didn’t figure you would,” he said, and something clicked.

He’d pushed her away, _that_ she couldn’t forget -- she’d at least tried to kiss him, but she’d been borderline-blackout drunk.

Oh.

That explained… a lot, that in retrospect should have been obvious.

“Yeah, thanks,” she cringed. “Um… sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he replied, biting his lip. “I -- “

“For the love of God,” Han yelled, “ask her out already!”

He paused, closed his eyes, appearing to be praying for patience; she could feel the heat rising to her face and hear Rey stifling laughter.

(“ _You’re_ one to talk,” Luke said, quietly but still clearly audible. “How long have you had a thing for my sister?”

“You shut up,” Han snapped.)

“I’m gonna kill him,” Cassian said finally.

“I’ll help,” she muttered, but hesitated when he glanced up at her, that same hopeful and uncomfortable expression on his face, like he hated everything about this but still hoped she’d respond positively anyway. She had never been very good at any emotional regulation other than “flee from the situation” and her track record with dates was atrocious and she wasn’t sure she’d even have time…

But it had been a long, long time since she’d connected with someone like this, just clicked and hit it off right away. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, maybe he’d break her heart like plenty of people had before, maybe she’d be making a mistake.

But maybe it would be one worth making, if only just to have this for a while.

She took a slip of receipt paper and scribbled her number on it, handing it over.

“Here,” she said, trying not to wince. “I can’t promise I’ll have the time, but…” she took a deep breath. “Text me when it’s not super-public and mortifying.”

He laughed a little at that, and took the paper, with a sincere smile and a quiet, “I will. Thank you.”

With that, he walked back to the table and they started to leave (all paying cash, like true college students who lived off tips); she overheard him asking Han why he was the way that he was, and tried not to laugh.

(Or maybe it wouldn't be a mistake at all.)


End file.
